


Thrive

by horrorsilk



Series: Kinktober 2020 [24]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Crying, Dacryphilia, Gender-neutral Reader, Kinktober, Master/Pet, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorsilk/pseuds/horrorsilk
Summary: Each tear shed is a precious gem, and the Worm King craves them all.For Kinktober 2020 prompt: dacryphilia((Can also be considered a follow up to Thrall/Thrill/Thread))
Relationships: Mannimarco (Elder Scrolls)/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947808
Kudos: 33





	Thrive

The crypt is cold and damp and dark and smells of decay. You've made it home. Ignoring the hushed voices questioning the hour of your arrival as you descend further into the bowels of the cave, you make your way to your chamber to dump your pack and remove some of your armour. You detest wearing the stuff, but it's necessary for trips in this part of the country. Between bandits and beasties, you'd be dead without it. Unstrapping your breastplate, you set it aside, making a mental note to clean it later. There are a lot of things you need to do later, but part of you wonders if later will come at all.

Mannimarco isn't going to be pleased.

You were due back yesterday, but after being waylaid by an ambush of highwaymen, you were lucky to have made it back at all. Not that he'll see it that way, no. The Worm King's word is law, after all, and while you've been nothing but obedient ever since pledging yourself to his service, any break from that expected compliance is on par with mutiny. You wonder if he'll show you any sort of kindness and _not_ reanimate your corpse, but you rather doubt it. You are not worthy of special treatment, even if the two of you have been sleeping together for several months now. There's no connection beyond bodily needs and his desire to dominate. Part of you wonders if he fucks all of his followers. With how pretty he is, he wouldn't even have to try, even if he wasn't a living god.

It's a thought that makes you sad, even as you trudge to his chambers. Because you've admittedly grown attached. Fond. Developed very strong feelings for. You try and think of every possible synonym, every euphemism to describe what you're feeling besides _that word._ You don't want to think about that word. 

When you reach the Worm King's door you hesitate for a moment before lifting your knuckles and rapping against the wood. From beyond you hear his voice call out "enter" before you push the door open, cringing at the shrill shriek of the hinges as you step over the threshold and past the point of no return.

"I have returned, my lord," you say, lowering your eyes so you don't have to witness the full extent of his rage. 

The icy air that accompanies him everywhere washes over you as he steps past to push the door closed. Once you hear the click of the lock you brace yourself, ready for a blade between your lungs or maybe even some curse to liquify your innards. But no such death comes. Instead, Mannimarco grabs you, crushes you to his chest, and you feel your entire body lock up as if you've turned to stone. After a moment, he holds you out at arm's length, cold eyes scanning you up and down.

"When you did not return yesterday, I feared for your life," he says, voice even but tinged with something disconsolate. "And I could not touch your mind, either. What happened?"

You shift your weight, still nervous despite the fact he doesn't seem to be angry. Frustrated and confused, maybe even sad, but there is no wrath in his words. You explain the ambush, the eight highwaymen that attacked you, and the reason why he couldn't connect with you in your thoughts was likely because of your mind being so scattered by stress. Mannimarco listens silently, stepping forward until he's inches from you, taking your chin in his gauntleted hand and lifting your face to his.

"I'm sorry," you say, voice barely even a whisper, but he silences you with a soft hiss.

"Do not apologize, pet. If I worry for you, it is only because I care. Very deeply." The lich sighs, turning your face to the sides as if to examine it for any damage. "You are uninjured?" 

"Only a few bruises, but they'll heal." You hope the words sound more reassuring than you feel, but Mannimarco seems unconvinced.

"Let me see." He steps back and gestures to the mattress on the far side of the room, closest to the fireplace. As obedient as always, you pull yourself up to sit on the edge, pulling open the laces of your tunic before lifting it above your head. A rather large bruise mars the left side of your rib cage, and a few smaller ones are blotched over your abdomen and arms, but judging by the horrified look on Mannimarco's face, his anxieties are only heightened at the sight of them. "Did you kill them? The men who did this to you?"

Slowly you nod. Does he really need to ask? As if you would let anyone who attacked you walk away free.

"Good. I was wondering if I might have to go and strangle them myself." He bares his teeth for a moment, looking feral and frightening and gorgeous as ever. "I have no gift for mending the flesh of the living, but if it might make you more comfortable, I could send for someone more inclined towards the art of Restoration."

"Oh, no, I'll be fine, my lord. It's just some bruising." You try and put on a convincing smile, but Mannimarco scowls. You know he doesn't like to feel out of control, but sometimes things just...happen. 

Still, the fact that he's so worried over you is a heady thought. Maybe he _does_ care more than he lets on. But that's a dangerous trail of thought to follow.

"You will stay with me tonight." His voice is cold, final. It isn't a request, but rather a command. You consider questioning why, but the words die on your lips when you see the almost forlorn look that passes over his features, if only briefly. This isn't about you, but him. He wants you to stay for his own peace of mind.

"As you wish, my lord," you say quietly, sitting stock still on the edge of the mattress as the Worm King removes his armor, lifts the circlet from his brow. You don't know that you've seen him in such a state as this before; wearing only a loose black shirt and buckskin leggings as he pulls himself into the bed with you, laying on his back and motioning for you to lay with him.

Of course you do, slotting yourself against his side. His skin is as cold as ice - you may as well be cuddling up to a pile of snow - but you know his flesh will match your own body temperature in time. His slender fingers lift to the top of your head, stroking your hair, and you feel your face burn. You've taken his cock, you've tasted his seed, and yet this touch is the most intimate you've shared. And you realize that you can't avoid the word anymore; you love him. 

Your heart swells with the confession, even if you keep it to yourself for now. But still, tears sting in the back of your eyes, gathering hot and wet before they slither down your cheeks. Mannimarco turns his head to face you, brows furrowed.

"Are you crying?" he asks, and it's a sincere question. You nod, and he sighs, lifting a hand to swipe away one of the tears on your cheek. "Why?"

You can't speak through the lump in your throat, but even if you could, you don't know what you'd say. Would you confess to him that you love him? That you worry that you are not truly worthy of his affections? That you are very sorry for having worried him so, and you never want to worry him like that again? Instead of speaking you just shrug, sniffling, and the Worm King rolls onto his side, grabbing you by your hip and pulling you closer to him.

"Now, now then, that's enough of that. If you've no reason to cry, then don't." His voice is gentle, almost a purr, and he leans in. You're expecting some kind of kiss, but you taking in a sharp breath when you feel the tip of his tongue tracing up one of the tear tracks on your skin. In fact, he laps away all of your tears, humming softly with each swipe of his tongue.

When the tears are gone, he licks down to your jaw, past your throat, all the way down to the collar of your shirt. The gentleness of his hands as he pulls the garment away from your torso makes fresh tears spring up in your eyes. Mannimarco sighs at the sight of them, wipes one away with his thumb as he tugs away your trousers. You're bare to him in more ways than one, your flesh exposed as well as your soul. Tears stream down your face as he tenderly runs his hands up your stomach, over your chest, and to your face.

"Mine," he says, and it may be a single word, but it holds more power than anything you've heard before.

"Yours," you whisper back, like a promise.

The fire has died down to a dull glow, the embers casting weird and alien shadows over the floor of the crypt, but even in the wan light you can see the Worm King's face as he slides into you. It's something you've done countless times before, yet the initial stretch still takes your breath away. His eyes are wide, bright, wild as he claims you, though this time there's nothing brutal about your coupling. He's clinging onto you, grabbing every inch of skin within reach, kissing over every bruise, murmuring oaths of protection against your throat. 

You're still weeping, though from pure bliss or emotions you don't want to think about long enough to name you don't know. But Mannimarco kisses and licks each one away, and when you come, crying his name, he sheds his own, single tear as he follows you into the throes of ecstasy.

Boneless, sated, overwhelmed, you collapse into his arms and weep openly now. There is no sorrow or bitterness in the tears, however. Just the unspoken things you've let build up. And the Worm King knows. He understands. Gentle fingers lift a corner of the blanket to your face when you've shed your final tear, and he blots at your face until it's mostly dry. Gently he pulls you into his arms, cradles you to his breast, and hums quietly until you fall asleep.

Just before you're swallowed up by the void, though, you swear you hear him say your name, voice hardly more than a breath, followed by a barely audible "I love you."


End file.
